The Confession of Piers Gaveston (17 page)

INTO EXILE AGAIN
 

His whole body anxiously aquiver, Edward clutched my hand tightly as we sat side by side in the cold and cavernous council chamber awaiting the arrival of the Lords Ordainers. My own hands were steady and I felt no fear. I knew exactly what was about to happen and I was tired of playing this game, but, for Edward’s sake, I forced myself to smile and squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“Tell me the nicknames again, Perrot,” Edward pleaded, his voice tremulous and childlike, “you know it always amuses me. Tell me why you call Warwick The Black Dog and Lancaster The Buffoon.”

And though I had long since come to regret them, I leaned back in my chair, propped my silk-clad legs up on the table, and complied.

“Why should I not call Warwick The Black Dog? Is his voice not like the growl of a mad mongrel? And when angered he foams at the mouth like one. And his long black beard is as unkempt as the coat of a wild dog; it is rare indeed that one does not see burrs or bits of food caught in it. He has told me on more than one occasion that he means to bite me one day!”

Edward giggled and clapped his hands. “Now tell me why Cousin Tom is The Buffoon!”

“Well, I shall tell you plainly, Tom of Lancaster is just as much of a strutting peacock as I am. We are both gaudy in our plumage and proud. Yet there is a difference; I have that which Thomas lacks—Style! Every chance he gets he struts and preens before the ladies, seeking to impress them in clothes so fussy, gaudy, and bright and weighed down with tinsel and trimmings, hoping to lure them into his bed. I remember him on my wedding day preening in his pink and orange striped taffeta with a whole garden of roses blooming on his hat! I told you then that you should send him to the Tower for his crimes against fashion. All his attire lacks is the cap and bells of a jester—a buffoon! What a shame he lacks the wit to actually be one!”

“Yes, yes,” Edward applauded, “that is my cousin Tom! And Pembroke is Joseph the Jew because …” he prompted.

“Ah, My Lord, it is because he hoards his smiles and laughter like a Jewish miser does his coins and is sore reluctant to part with them! Forsooth, I meant no insult when I named him such, only to tease!”

“Methinks you tease Pembroke overmuch!” Edward said petulantly. “It is comforting to know that nothing shall ever come of it!”

“Verily, My Lord, I am not yet ready to admit defeat!” I smiled.

Grim-faced and wearing armor, to show the seriousness of their intent, and that civil war was not an idle threat, the Lords Ordainers marched in and ranged themselves before us, with Warwick, Lancaster, and Pembroke at the fore. Burst-belly was absent, having recently died of gluttonous excess; though many persisted in the belief that I had poisoned him.

They declined to be seated which I could well understand; the chairs in the council chamber are beastly uncomfortable. They frowned and stared pointedly at my legs propped up upon that most highly esteemed of tables but I just smiled and nodded graciously back at them.

“By your leave,” began Lancaster, “I shall read the charges.”

“As you like, My Lord,” I smiled amiably. “I shall sit here and strive to appear languid and alluring while I pretend to listen; but do not worry, if you stumble upon a word you do not know I shall be most happy to assist you.”

Edward smiled dotingly and laid a hand upon my arm. “Dearest Perrot, even in times of adversity your kindness and generosity never desert you!”

“Your air of levity ill becomes the gravity of this situation,” the Earl of Pembroke reproved me.

“Oh woe that I should ever be ill-becoming in your eyes!” I cried.

Edward tapped my thigh sharply and shook his head to signal his disapproval.

And then the charges were read against me.

According to them, I had dabbled in the black arts to gain ascendancy over Edward, and enticed him to do my bidding in various nefarious and deceitful ways—namely by dangling the promise of forbidden sex, or sodomy, before him like a carrot on a string held just beyond a donkey’s nose. I had squandered the country’s wealth, thus emptying the treasury and putting the nation into pawn with foreign moneylenders, the worst by far being the Florentine banker, Amerigo dei Frescobaldi, my personal banker and sometime lover. I had used my influence to feather the nests of my kin, shiftless, good-for-nothing Gascons all, to the detriment of good and able Englishmen. My arrogance knew no bounds, and to no one, not even the Church or my lover the King did I show proper respect. They declared me an enemy to King and country alike.

And, found guilty of treason, I was once again stripped of my earldom, and all other honors, properties, and revenues, to be banished in perpetuity from England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and all English dominions across the sea, including my native Gascony. I was ordered to be quit of the country by fortnight’s end or else, for the second time, I would be excommunicated. Why they thought this would strike fear in the heart of a man they accused of worshipping the Devil I do not know. It merely meant Edward would worry himself to a shadow, wear pens out by the bushel, and annoy the Pope until he lifted the ban.

“Well, Piers Gaveston, have you anything to say?” Warwick asked as Lancaster clumsily rolled up the condemnatory parchment.

After indulging in an exaggerated yawn, I shook my head, clucked my tongue, and said: “For shame, My Lord of Lancaster, this story has scandal, intrigue, danger, and romance, high comedy and drama, and it just drips with sex, yet you tell it so dully! I daresay you could make Robin Hood sound as dreary as a banker’s clerk!”

Lancaster said I should consider myself fortunate that they did not sentence me to burn as my mother had and doubtlessly continued to do in the dominion of Lucifer, the master she had served so well. And I was doubly deserving of such a fate, sodomy and witchcraft both being burning offenses.

“Damn you!” I leapt to my feet. “You know nothing of my mother or me!”

“None save one bewitched,” he stared pointedly at Edward, “would want to know Satan’s minions!”

“Away with you, pretty little Gascon catamite,” The Black Dog growled with a swatting motion as if I were nothing more than a bothersome fly, “before I set you ablaze myself!”

At these words Edward burst into tears and flung himself upon me, entreating them not to hurt his beloved Perrot whom he loved more than life itself.

“For shame, Your Majesty!” Pembroke reproved him sharply. “Regard yourself! See how besotted you are! Clearly you are bewitched; he has cast the glamour over you! Were he to cut off one of your limbs you would smile and say: It is nothing; I still have one left!”

“With all due respect, My Lord,” I said saucily, “it would depend on which limb it was, they do not all come in pairs.” I glanced boldly down at Pembroke’s loins and licked my lips. “A certain one springs to mind that has no twin and if lost would be sorely lamented, especially in bed!”

Edward’s tears instantly turned to laughter. He collapsed into his chair, clutching his sides as laughter convulsed him and his face turned red.

“Oh Perrot! Your wit is like rubies, sparkling and beyond price!”

“My Lords,” I stood to address them, “since you have raised the subject, a subject it is plain you know nothing about, pray give me leave to answer you. Look at me, vain, foppish peacock that I am, and know that never have I required more than what you see here, this face and body, to attain anything I desired. I have never had recourse to poppets and pins, evil incantations, or to traffic with the dead, and the only potions I have any acquaintance with are medicinal. And your Church, which you rightly say I do not respect, murdered my mother, chained her to a stake and set her on fire, then confiscated all that she possessed, leaving me an orphan without a mother, means, or a home! Verily, it gives a whole new meaning to the words Christian charity!” With that I turned my back and left them. As I went, I heard Edward’s heartrending wail as he fell forward, weeping and pounding his fists upon the table.

“Your Majesty must sign the decree,” Pembroke insisted, laying it before him.

“You would have me sign it with my heart’s blood!” Edward sobbed.

“No, Your Majesty,” Pembroke assured him, dipping a quill into the inkwell and handing it to him, “ink shall suffice.”

“I cannot wear my crown upon my heart!” Edward wept as he shakily scrawled his signature.

But I was glad to have it over and done! Certainly I would go; I wanted to go! I would not stay and see Edward made into a laughingstock before the entire world by plunging his kingdom into civil war just to keep me in his bed!

A few days later an attempt was made on my life. I had gone into London, quietly and unobtrusively, with only Dragon and one other guard. We were returning to our barge when two men, wielding daggers, burst from the bustling dockside crowd and made straight for me. It happened so quickly. We struggled to disarm them, but mindless rage swelled their strength. I had no choice, it was either kill or be killed.

Miraculously, I escaped without a scratch, and, covered in my would-be assassins’ blood, they hustled me to the barge with such speed that my feet scarcely touched the ground. They threw me in and ordered the oarsmen to make haste; there would be extra coins for them if they got me back to the palace soon and safe.

When word reached Edward he sped breathlessly to my side, no doubt expecting to find me languishing in bed with my life’s blood pouring out of me. Poor Nedikins, how surprised he was to see me sitting by the fire, freshly bathed and dressed, sipping wine and conferring with Agnes while my servants sorted through my clothes and carried in sturdy wooden traveling chests.

“I shall travel lightly since my destination is at present unknown, so have them pack only the most simple, serviceable things that are easy to care for and launder …”

“Piers!” Edward exclaimed. “What are you doing? You cannot mean to leave me!”

“Has Your Majesty forgotten that I am banished?” I asked, calmly taking another sip of wine.

“But, my love, you must not abandon hope!” Edward rushed to kneel before me. He took the goblet from me and thrust it at Agnes then clasped both my hands. “By my very soul, I swear, I shall find a way to keep you!”

I pulled my hands away and stood up. “Did it never occur to you that I no longer want to be kept by you?”

“You cannot mean that!”

“Oh, but I do!”

“You have grown cold, Piers!” he accused. “And I do not know what has wrought this dreadful change in you!”

“Life has changed me; you have changed me, Edward! No longer shall my love-some mouth lie to you! I shall no longer play the pastry chef who rolls the truth in sugar before it is served to you! But if the truth pains you, then you may take comfort in knowing that it is a dagger embedded deep in my heart as well.”

Edward seized hold of me, clutching me tight against his body. “Then let me pull that hateful, hurtful dagger free and make you warm again with my love!”

“Nay, Edward,” I said coolly as I pulled away. “The fire within me is doused and never again shall it kindle for you. I have experienced fire all too well,” I displayed my scarred hands, “methinks I prefer the cold.”

“Do you mean you no longer love me?”

“That is precisely what I mean,” I said and turned away from him. “Agnes, I have been remiss; I have forgotten entirely the matter of shoes …”

“How can you sit there talking of shoes?” Edward wailed. “I love you more than life itself!”

“Then you must have very little regard for life,” I shrugged.

“No; you cannot mean this!” Edward persisted. “The shock of the assault has robbed you of your senses!”

“No, Edward, it has opened my eyes and I see the world and my place in it with an all new clarity! Verily, I feel as a blind man who has suddenly, miraculously, regained his sight must feel! But what happened today really has nothing to do with my decision. I went into London today to consult my lawyers; I have signed documents empowering them to act upon my behalf and in Meg’s best interests for the next five years …”

“Five years!” Edward shrieked, his face deathly pale. “You mean to leave me for five years, five long years?”

“No, Edward,” I shook my head and said placidly: “I mean to leave you forever. The Lords Ordainers have banished me and I mean to make my exile a permanent one. By my actions I mean only to be practical. Though I have been restored to the state in which I came to you, a foreigner possessing neither title, lands, or inheritance, the Lords Ordainers have graciously consented to allow Meg to retain Wallingford, sans the title of Countess of Cornwall, until such time as she remarries or perishes. Beyond her housewifely duties she is inexperienced in the management of such a large estate and someone must look after her interests. I have also charged them to find a suitable tutor to educate her in such things; knowledge is power and blind faith is rarely rewarded. After five years I shall see how matters stand, but it shall all be done by correspondence; onto English soil I shall never again set foot.”

“But she is my niece!” Edward protested. “Do you think that I will not look after her?”

“The same as you have looked after me?” I arched my brows. “Verily, Edward, I pity anyone to whom you decide to give your protection or love; to the brink of destruction it will bear them!”